


It'll be like a videogame

by ba_rabby



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: i_reversebang, Explicit Sexual Content, Giant Spiders, Gore, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ba_rabby/pseuds/ba_rabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was Ariadne's first job since working on Fischer over a year ago. She had purchased her compounds in advance (had in fact laughed when Eames offered to bring something from Yusuf) and so they had no need for a chemist. It was just the three of them: Ariadne, Eames as extractor with Arthur as point. All the genius of the inception job without the psychological issues, deception and limbo risk. Eames was actually looking forward to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Inception fic and I hope you enjoy. Comments and suggestions are welcome.  
> Originally for the Inception Reverse Bang 2013 and was inspired by beautiful artwork by motetus http://motetus.livejournal.com/118411.html

“Good lord, yes.” Eames muttered as he strode from Benito Juárez International Airport. He’d just spent several months in the UK doing “the family thing” and he had just about enough of sweaters, thank you very much. He basked for a moment in the swelter of Mexico’s rainy season before scanning around for transportion. He left his window open on the cab ride to the Coyoacán borough, air pollution be damned.

Eames had been impressed by Ariadne’s builds for the Fisher job and was keen to join her on this first venture since then. Her beginner status to the field aside, she was on top of things. Ariadne’s compounds had been purchased in advance, she’d in fact laughed when Eames offered to swing by Yusuf for Somnacin. That meant a three person job with himself, Ariadne and Arthur. All the genius of inception without the psychological issues, deception and limbo risk. Eames was looking forward to it.

Their mark, Dr. Heléna Ahuatzin, was an archeologist and professor out of the National Autonomous University of Mexico and their hotel was a short drive south of the main campus. Eames had searched Ahuatzin on UNAM’s staff page. Her university photograph revealed her to have a dark, round face and thick black hair, greying at her temples. The photographs on her research group’s page were far more interesting for Eames, though. There were snapshots of Heléna in wide-brim hats and hiking clothes, hunched over pottery remains. There was an image of her holding a canteen and flashing a long-suffering smile to the photographer. In another shot, she was observing a fresco with a pen poised above her notebook. Her eyebrows were pinched in concentration, but her posture was relaxed.

 

When Eames entered the suite that the team was sharing sharing he came across Arthur in the (far too air-conditioned) living room, clacking at his laptop. His eyes flicked up from the screen, “Eames,”.

“Arthur, lovely to see you again.”

Arthur nodded, his gaze already back on his work, “Ariadne’s gone to get food. She’ll be back in a bit.” For all Arthur’s minimal greeting and rigid posture, Eames had never seen him so dressed down. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. They looked like a very nice t-shirt and jeans, but still.

Eames shook his head mentally. “Which one’s my room then?”

“Far one.”

“Cheers.” Eames lugged his carry-on to the empty bedroom.

By the time Eames was finished unpacking and had wandered into the common area, Ariadne had returned with supper. “Eames!” she grinned broadly and scurried around the heavily laden dining table to give him a hug. “How was the trip?”

“Hectic. But air travel’s always like that.”

Ariadne made a sympathetic sound then said brightly, “Well, foods up. Hope you don’t have a seafood allergy.”

Arthur unloaded the take-out and there really was an utter spread of sea creatures. Several kinds of fish tacos, shrimp tacos (bizarrely), rice and spicy vegetables. “Where on earth did you find a seafood restaurant?” Eames said around a mouthful of food.

“It’s just down the street.” Arthur tossed the menu pamphlet Eames’ way and continued eating with a single-minded focus.

This was a low-key job and Eames didn’t plan to get started until after he’d had a good rest. Apparently Ariadne had been sharing the suite with Arthur for a day or two beforehand and she proceeded to tell Eames about the tourist traps and public icons. In the end, even Arthur joined her enthusiastic chatter.

 

Even though Ariadne wasn’t doing the extraction, this was technically her job. She’d been approached by the client, a professor at her school in Paris. This professor wanted information regarding some newly uncovered Pre-Columbian ruins in Mexico’s Campeche state. Dr. Ahuatzin was heading the research.

“That’s a bit underhanded, isn’t it?” Eames asked frowning.

Arthur side-eyed him, “We steal from people’s heads professionally.”

“Yes, but CEOs are crooks anyway,” Eames waved his hand dismissively, “isn’t there supposed to be, I don’t know, certain ethical standards among academic research?” His gaze settled on Ariadne.

She shrugged, “Academia’s cut-throat. And, he paid me half up front.”

“Arthur,” Eames clutched his chest in faux-shock, “I think we’ve corrupted her into our criminal ways.” Both Arthur and Ariadne rolled their eyes.

“If anything it was Cobb who corrupted me.” Ariadne replied. 

Eames nodded in agreement. “So, what do we know about the mark?” he glanced at Arthur.

Arthur flipped through his little black notebook, “Dr. Ahuatzin graduated from The University of Valencia, in Archeology obviously. She studied briefly in Argentina during her Post Doc and settled at UNAM and…” he flipped a page, “her early work focused on Chichen Itza in the east, the last several years she’s gone back to her original PhD sites of…” Arthur frowned, then took a deep breath, “Teo-ti-hu- tihuacan and Scochil-calco— Xochicalco— god— in the west.” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, she’s working out of those two sites now with the National Institute of Anthropology and History. And she’s collaborating with another researcher out of Guatemala on the Tikal site. Uh…she’s also the head researchers for Chactún in the past year.”

“That’s the one the client wants info on, right?”

“Yep.” Arthur nodded, “No spouse, no kids. Older self-sufficient parents” He turned a page, “Lectures at UNAM on occasion and visits elementary and high schools to talk about her work.”Arthur looked up and snapped his moleskine shut, “That’s pretty much it. She’s devoted to her work. The NIAH is government, but there is no evidence that she has been militarized.” Eames opened his mouth but Arthur cut him off, “I checked Eames and I’ll keep checking while we’re getting the plan hammered out.”

“Alright, just asking. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Eames muttered. Arthur gave him a dark look that Eames ignored, “Speaking of hammering out the plan, did you have anything in mind Ariadne?”

“Well, I was thinking of going with the University actually. I’ve had a look around the University City, some really cool architects involved by the way. I’d love to take a crack and recreating those buildings. We could dream up Ahuatzin’s office and she should fill it with her notes, right?.”

“Hmm.” Eames tapped a pen against his lips for a moment, then said slowly, “It’s a start, but from what I’ve seen she’s most comfortable when she’s doing her field work. Perhaps placing her right in a site might be best.”

“Like an archaeological site?”

“I was thinking of… channeling this Chactún site since that’s what we need info on. Are there any images of the ruins available yet?”

“Yeah, Nat Geo did a spread about it the summer it came out and there are a couple of other publications that have featured it in the past year or so. But it’s overgrown and hardly a tourist destination. I wouldn’t be able to get there. The only reason they found the place was from aerial photographs.”

“That’s good. We can use that. If it’s really deserted, that can limit the amount of projections. She’ll probably conjure up her team, but hopefully that’ll be all.”

“You can do that? Limit projections like that?” Ariadne looked as though someone had just shown her a calculator after she’d spent her life doing long-division by hand.

“I’ve seen it done before,” Eames replied. “Not often, mind you. It’s challenging to create a location where people will logically be absent. But if the government is keeping tourists out for the time being we can use that in our favour. You can work greenery and all that, right?”

“Design the jungle as well?” When Eames nodded, Ariadne’s eyebrows pinched but she replied, “I’ve played around with it in my spare time and it’s not been a problem.” She turned to a notebook and started scribbling. “Now should I actually base it entirely off the stills from Chactún?”

“I don’t know,” Eames replied, “Arthur?”

Arthur pursed his lips, “I don’t think so. I’ve seen those photos you’re talking about and they’re useful for references, but you’re bound to miss something if you try to replicate the place. The reason why the client has hired us is because they didn’t release all the information. And Ahuatzin will inevitably know more about the site than you. So, no.” Arthur leaned in his chair, balancing on the back legs, “Maybe a mix of the other sites she’s worked on, to get her in the head space of research: Chichen Itza. Or Tikal or— the other two.”

Ariadne smirked, “Teotihuacan and Xochicalco?” Her pronunciation was perfect.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Yes those ones.” He opened his moleskine and began scribbling, “I’ve got arial and ground level images of the sites and you can start from there.”

 

By that evening, Eames knew a great deal more about Pre-Columbian civilizations than he had thought there was to know about. Ahuatzin was quite a prolific writer. It was all in Spanish, of course, and while he had to look up the more uncommon words, it had been an enjoyable way to spend the day.

Ariadne had progressed rather quickly with her models. When Eames mentioned this, she countered, “It’s not a maze yet, I’m just trying to get the structures down and then I’ll use the trees as mazes.” She smiled at him, “This will sort of be like Tomb Raider.”

“Oh yeah.” Arthur blurted from his desk grinning widely, elusive dimples on full display.

It was the first time Arthur had genuinely smiled since the previous night and Eames was keen to see more, “I do hope you both mean, Indiana Jones.”

Arthur scoffed, “Please. The man treks into rain-forests with untreated ophidiophobia.” At Eames’ blank expression, Arthur clarified, “Fear of snakes.”

“Well, Lara Croft is just. Well she’s just a tart, isn’t she?”

“That,” Ariadne said raising a finger, “is _not_ her fault. Just because her designers feel that quadruple H breasts are a physical possibility for an athletic explorer does not negate her bad-assed-ness.”

Eames shook his head “Maybe this is a generational thing.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “You and I are in the same generation.” Then his gaze went to Ariadne, “Have you played the new Lara Croft game?”

“No. I’ve been so busy with school. Is it good?”

“So. Good.” They then babble on about Lara Croft’s development as a character and how the game company had really come along way. 

Apparently Arthur was a gamer. Go figure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planning stages.

The trio bounced architecture ideas off one another for some time before they settled on making the dream allude to Teotihuacan and Tikal (since it also had influences of those people) in layout while structurally presenting something of a caricature of Chactún. By emphasizing, even exaggerating, the ornamental differences found in Chactún, Ahuatzin would _hopefully_ fill in the specific details of the site that they were interested in extracting.

The  result was the same: Ariadne needed to do some field work. For a week she made daily trips to Teotihuacan and the local museums to get a better feel for the architecture and style of the era. Even when she came back sun-burnt and exhausted she sat for several hours making notes, printing photographs and talking to Arthur about the dream layout. Then she stuffed some food into her face and passed out before waking up and doing it again the next day.

While Ariadne was off doing her architecture thing, Eames spent a some time in the _Ciudad Universitaria_ observing Dr. Ahuatzin. Eames had snuck into one of Ahuatzin’s lectures at NUMA and tailed her discretely around the city. Eames had found out that she had a weakness for street food in the evening ( _elotes_ , and _tamales_ with fruit). In the mornings she would walk past several Starbuck’s branches before reaching a small local restaurant where she would purchase her coffee. Ahuatzine appeared, in Eames’ mind, as the epitome of the absent-minded professor. She would often stop walking and stare off into space deep in through or would scribble things into a notebook for over an hour while her coffee went cold.

 

While Eames was back at the suite he studied up. When he had seen enough Mayan glyphs and anthropological descriptions for the day, he found himself observing Arthur. Arthur had, of course, been working in the past year and a half since inception, unlike Ariadne, who had been completing her degree. But in all that time Eames had not worked with Arthur once since the Fisher job. He’d wondered whether Arthur had been avoiding him. But if Eames was honest with himself (and he tried to be honest with himself at least), his near-limbo experience pushed him back into real world crime. He didn’t have the risk of permanent brain damage, just a sound beating if he got caught.

It took Eames several days to realize that Arthur’s sartorial choices were not the only things relaxed about him. While Arthur didn’t make an effort to engage Eames in conversation throughout the day (during _work hours_ as Arthur called them) they did talk over meals. Arthur had been courteous, damn-near pleasant and seemed far more relaxed than Eames had ever known him to be. The dark smudges under his eyes that Eames had just associated with the man, were gone. While Arthur’s posture was perfect it lacked the underlying tension and he fidgeted far less than he did during the planning sessions in Paris. Eames had met Arthur through Cobb and he realized that all of his interactions with the man had been tainted by the stress of pretty much babysitting Cobb.

 

"These Teotihuacans were pretty bad-ass. They took over half of Guatemala.” Arthur had said one afternoon as they worked on opposite corners of the living room. It was the first thing he’d said since lunch.

"Teotihuacanos." Eames replied absently.

"What?"

Eames kept his eyes on the codex Dr. Ahuatzin had been analyzing for the past few years. "The people who lived in Teotihuacan are called Teotihuacanos, not -huancans. Really Arthur,” Eames murmured, “your Spanish is atrocious. You're as American as they come."

Eames didn't look up to see Arthur's expression, he really needed to get this codex read.

It was later, over dinner, that Arthur retaliated. "The jal-lap-enoes are really hot in this inchillayda" Arthur said between a massive bite. Eames gaped, masticated food be damned. But then narrowed his eyes at Arthur's smirk.

"I can speak a bit of Spanish Eames” he rolled his eyes at Eames’ annoyed expression, “I’m not a complete anglophile."

"And here I was thinking you brought be on for my Spanish-speaking”

"I didn't say I was fluent. I've got about a grade eleven level of spanish. ‘ _¿Dónde está el baño por favor?_ ’ and _‘yo no hablo español’_ I've got pitch perfect." he gave Eames a cheeky little grin. Arthur was right though, his pronunciation was flawless for those two sentences.

"Do you only speak Spanish?" Eames asked. He found that he rather liked Arthur sans Cobb.

"Well, I grew up in south west. So I used to know more than that. There were a lot of latinos where I grew up. But I just don't use it really." Arthur took another bite then added after he’d swallowed, "But I speak bits of other stuff. Russian, Portugese. I’m better with French, to be honest.” Arthur poked at his plate, “What about you? How many languages do you speak?"

Eames paused for a moment, "Well Spanish, obviously, French and German. Those I did in school. And in my travels I've picked up bits of Dutch, Swahili, a handful of Arabic dialects and Polish, if you'd believe it."

"Christ." Eames relished the fact that Arthur seemed genuinely impressed.

"Well, I may be rubbish at maths,” he replied, “but I'm good at languages."

Arthur snorted, "Your "maths" are fine,” he grinned, “I’ve never known you to miss a payment error.”

Eames grinned, "Yeah, but I really hate all those numbers. I'd rather get the answer from someone else than figure it out. I never got the hang of doing it in my head. That payment stuff is all on bits of paper. Carrying over the noughts and commas and what-not”

“”Noughts.” Arthur chuckled. He really did have a lovely smile, “Yeah, it takes a certain kind of mind at actually enjoy that kind of thing.”

 

When Ariadne deemed herself ready to build put some ear buds on worked late into the night. Eames let her be; he knew the single-minded focus that creative inspiration could instil. The next morning, he found Ariadne slumped against her table and smiled fondly. Eames gave her a gentle shake, “Up you get Ari.”

She sat up groggily, rubbed at her mouth with the back of her hand, “What time isit?”

“Eight. Go to bed. We can talk shop after you’ve had a nap.” Ariadne grunted and shuffled off to her room.

After she had left Eames had a look at her work station. There were photographs strewn across the surface; some were closeups of certain features with notes scribbled over them in Sharpie, some were magazine clippings of Chactún. Ariadne had also managed to get a hold of some miniature trees and had dotted them onto the model in a pattern that Eames could trace as the beginnings of a maze. She’d even managed to make the _talud-tablero,_ the slope-and-panel style pyramids accurate to the site (which must have been a hell of a lot of paper folding). 

Arthur came up behind him to look at Ariadne’s handiwork. “She’s probably going to have the most difficulty with the details,” he said. When Eames made a questioning noise, Arthur clarified, “Well, she’s got the styling of the pyramids are about right, but she needs to layout the ornamentation on everything. Cities are pretty straight forward: make it tall, make it shiny and you have a skyscraper. But Dr. Ahuatzin knows this stuff like her own home. So Ariadne can’t skimp on the details here. Regardless though,” Arthur reached a hand to shift Ariadne’s photographs around, “It’s pretty good stuff so far. It’s gonna be kinda cool.” Eames could hear the smile in Arthur’s voice.

Eames turned and laughed, “Kinda cool?” he said, mimicking Arthurs’s accent.

Arthur shrugged, “Well, I’ve never actually been to any of these places and when we do dreamwork it’s almost always cities and shit that’s pretty standard, but, ya know, mundane.”

“Ah. You’re telling me you’ve never used the PASIV for a bit of recreational dreaming?”

“Well, yeah,” Arthur shrugged, “Who hasn’t. I just— Well you’re always the one getting on my case about lacking imagination.” He said that last bit with a self deprecating smirk.

“Yes. I’ll need to retract those previous statements at some point.”

Arthur chuckled, “Too bad. The words have been spoken. I will forever be known far and wide as the stick-in-the-mud with no imagination.” He moved away from Ariadne’s work area and padded into the kitchenette, “But seriously, I’ve never had to build anything like that. I know how to build cities and _modern_ landscapes. But, recreating ruins has never been useful for stealing from rich businessmen.”

“True.” Eames replied. “Can you put the kettle on while you’re in there, please?” Arthur nodded and filled the electric kettle with water and flicked it on. “Ta.” Eames poked at Ariadne’s models a bit longer contemplating. “You know. She may not have to put in the details.”

“Oh?”

“If we really want Ahuatzin to fill in things, it might be better to leave the surfaces blank and allow her subconscious to do the work. The pyramid structures are quite distinct. Like a cross between two of the other sites. It might be enough to jog her memory.”

Arthur stood still for a moment then nodded, “That’s not a bad idea. Cobb and I tried that once and it worked to get the mark to lay the information out for us.”

“Did the job go well?”

Arthur snorted, “What do you think?”

Eames cleared his throat, “Have you heard from Cobb much?”

“A little.” He scooped coffee beans into his french press, “The kids usually ask for me.”

“He doesn’t?”

Arthur shrugged, “Well, he’s busy with his family now.”

“Hmm.” Despite the mildness of Arthur’s expression, his posture was tense.. Eames was tempted to pry, but it was too early in the morning to be manipulative. He said instead, “I’m interested to see what Ariadne’s come up with when we go under”

 

Later that evening Ariadne took them down to check out the dream layer. They appeared in the centre of a large field with a pyramid temple dominating one end and several burial mounds running along the sides. There were trees around the city running in lines like the borders of a boulevard, the maze part most likely. At the moment, the city was pristine. “This is really good work Ariadne,” Eames said, “but you may want to make it look more…ruined. Overgrown perhaps”

She waved a hand, “Yeah, I’ll tackle that once I get everything set up. Come on, I’ll show you the layout of the maze.”

Arthur had woken up with a boyish grin on his face.

“That dreamscape is great Ari. I’m pumped to do this job actually,” he said over dinner and beers later. Eames couldn’t help but chuckle making Arthur frown, “What? It’ll be like a video game. You have to admit that’s cool.”

“Arthur we have the technology to enter other people’s dreams and you think that playing video games is _cooler_?”

Arthur made a sound of annoyance. “You know what I mean.”

Ariadne laid a hand on Arthur’s arm and said with an expression of deep sympathy, “ _I_ know what you mean.” 

When her expression broke into a smirk, Arthur swatted her hand away. He looked very close to pouting, “Why are you guys not getting the significance of this? I get to be Lara Croft in a game of Tomb Raider.” Eames groaned. Partly to match his eye roll, but also to cover his internal reaction at the thought of Arthur in a tank top and tiny shorts.

Ariadne chuckled. "What?”, Eames arches a brow at her. 

"It's just funny. You're British and can't stand Lara Croft and Arthur's American and can't stand Indiana Jones."

"Well you're American and like Lara Croft. In fact you're a woman and like her. She should be an offence to your feminist sensibilities."

Ariadne snorted as she slumped back into her seat, “ Nice try. One: I'm Canadian. Two: I would hardly describe myself as feminist. And even if I did, Lara was still a formative influence in my childhood gaming experience.”

Eames looked Ariadne up and down, "Really? Because if she was that influential, your trousers are far too long. And those scarves you wear cover your bosom. Hardly channeling Miss Croft at all.”

Ariadne sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not just about the look. And besides, she was an icon.”

“Yeah, a sex symbol.”

“Not just that. How many other female characters are there in video games? Especially back then.”

“Ari you realize I’m centuries older than you. I don’t even know what a Y-Box does.”

Ariadne swatted his arm, laughing. “Well, just so you know, there were none. Not that weren’t damsels in distress. She actually got shit done. She _raided_ those Tombs.”

“You know,” Eames replied, “tomb raider is really just another word for grave robber.”

This time Arthur replied, “Oh and Indiana Jones was just borrowing the golden egg thingy?”

Eames frowned, “The what?”

“The thing. That set off that boulder trap.”

“You mean the Golden Idol of Fertility?”

Arhtur gave him _a_ _look_ , “You’re joking.”

Eames puffed up, “They were very good movies.”

“Girls, girls,” Ariadne cut in, “both Lara Croft and Indiana Jones can be the best.”

“No they can’t” Arthur said at the same time as Eames snorted out, “I doubt it.”

Ariadne blinked, “Wow. You guys actually give a shit about this.” Then she laughed, “God, you’re both such nerds.”


	3. Chapter 3

Eames wiped the sweat from his brow as he pushed his way through the underbrush, his body running through the maze on autopilot. He froze at the distant sound of gunshots. The radio strapped to his hip crackled and he scrabbled for it, “Arthur?”

“Hey, Yeah. Eames,” Arthur sounded out of breath, “you’re not arachnophobic are you?”

Eames frowned, “No— Why?”

“Meet me at the base of the Temple of the Sun?”

“Certainly.” Eames paused, “You did say she wasn’t militarized Arthur…”

“Yeah, yeah. Meet you in fifteen. Over ’n’ out.” The radio clicked and the static was gone.

As Eames made his way to the Sun Temple, there were no more gunshots, for which he was grateful. He spotted Arthur at the steps of the Temple looking flushed and anxious. Eames opened his mouth to speak but Arthur cut him off, “She’s not militarized. I checked.”

Eames arched an eyebrow, “And you fired your weapon for the sheer joy of frightening the mark?”

Arthur glared at Eames and opened his mouth to say something (probably biting), but his eyes goggled suddenly he fire three shots to Eames’ left. 

Eames kept very still until Arthur was quite done before he turned, “Good Lord.” Just by the edge of the bordering forest was a massive spider. A horror-movie sized spider. About the size of a great dane. Its front end, probably where the head and several legs had been was a mess of brown pulp courtesy of Arthur. “You’re sure this isn’t militarization Arthur?”

Arthur, who was in the process of reloading, scowled, “No. You didn’t want humans, cool. But her mind must have still conjured up some projections. So, here we go.” He gestured at the dead beast, “Spiders. Thanks.” He slapped at his neck in annoyance.

“Alright," Eames said turning away from the thing, "well we just need to get to the Main Temple before they catch up. Not a problem”

Arthur jammed his handguns into his hip holsters and turned to climb the steps up the Temple of the Sun replica.

When they reached the top of the temple, they came across several spiders instead of just one. Arthur sighed heavily before he got to work. Arthur picked off the larger ones with some well-aimed shots. Eames tackled them with his machete. It was a bit messier and quite a bit of effort, but it was quiet. 

"Arthur, love you did check if she was militarized or not?" Eames said panting and he yanked his machete out of the spider carapace.

Arthur snapped his head around and glared at Eames. "Yes. I checked. She wasn't militarized."

"Alright." Eames tried desperately to keep calm. Their plan did not account for militerization.  Unless..."Fuck." Eames huffed out.

"What Eames. Spit it out."

"Well. The Goddess of Teotihuaca is related to several animals, spiders are just one of them. It probably why Ahuatzin's brought spiders in as projections. Well,” he kicked at a still twitching leg, “these really big ones anyway.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "What other animals was she associated with Eames?"

Eames bit his lip, "Owls," Arthur nodded, "and uh jaguars." Arthur scowled.

"Are they gonna be jumbo sized?"

“Not sure exactly” Eames scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve never seen this before."

"Fuck. Eames." Arthur gave him a plaintive look, "You're supposed to be the psychologist. Why didn't you psychologize this?"

"That's not really a word--?

"No." Arthur snapped, "I'm so tired of...this was supposed to be a cake walk. I'm so fucking sick of being gored through and tortured and shot and thrown around in microgravity. I just want to get the job, do some cool stuff and get the hell out of dodge. This was not supposed to be so difficult." Arthur looked pained. Eames had had some unpleasant experiences in the dream-scape, who hadn't in the business, but Arthur had been tagging behind Cobb with his neurosis and violent manifestations of guilt. So Arthur had probably gotten more than his fair share of violent deaths.

"Look. It's fine." Eames said placatingly "We just really need to get to the dais by sundown."

"Why by sundown?" Arthur squinted up at the dream-sky.

"Well, those creatures I just mentioned, they’re underworld and nighttime beasts. We've got spiders now, but it might be a lot worse once it gets dark."

Arthur sighed, "Alright. Let's get this done."

 

Eames wondered how he had pegged Dr. Ahuatzin so poorly. His mind went to the various images of her deep in thought and realized that instead of mulling over the minutiae of her archeological sites, she must have just been bloody daydreaming. Nothing else could explain such an rampant imagination.

Eames hacked into the nearest spider that had jumped out at them, “You see Arthur? Guns are noisy,” Eames grunted when he was hit in the face with…spider fluids, “where as Indiana’s weapon of choice is silent but deadly.”

“What a fart?” Arthur muttered while reloading.  
  
Eames laughed, "I know you enjoy being Laurence Croft, Arthur. You don't have to lie to me."  
  
Even covered in spider gore, there was a spark of amusement, excitement even in Arthur’s eyes. "Shut up," 

 

They banked around a corner and Eames was so focused on recreating the maze’s layout in his mind that he startled quite badly when Arthur dragged him into an alcove and slapped a palm over his mouth. Once Arthur removed his hand, Eames mouthed “ _Jaguar?_ ” Arthur nodded and Eames sighed.

He took a peek around the corner and retracted himself immediately. The spiders had been bad, massive buggers. But the jaguar snoozing in the middle of the hall was the size of a Range Rover, and that was lying down. Eames was really not in the mood to be mauled to death. This job really wasn’t worth that sort of PTSD. He wanted to ask Arthur again whether he had checked if the mark was militarized thoroughly, but Eames knew that he was deflecting. The spiders hadn’t all been predatory. Quite a lot of them ignored the pair as they passed. When they did attack they focused on both Eames and Arthur rather than on just Arthur who was the dreamer. Ergo, these were likely not militarized projections. If they were, they were poorly militarized and whoever had done it would have been picked up by Arthur. But Arthur didn’t find anything and so that could only mean a really good militarization, and the argument went round and round. Dr. Ahuatzin really just had some creative projections and Eames, who had been studying the woman had missed on unbridled creativity. Therefore any mauling he experienced his own fault.

He whispered to Arthur, “Jaguars are solitary right?”

Arthur scowled, “How should I know?”

“I don’t know. You know everything. I just thought.” He peeked out a little again, “Hopefully there’s just one.”

“Eames I really don’t want to get eaten to death. I'm just...Any form of dismemberment is just— no.”

“Alright, alright. We’ll just shoot it.”

Arthur looked down at the pistols holstered against his thighs, then gave Eames an arch look. Right, jaguar beats tiny guns. Eames could dream up something bigger, but then that would really grab more attention. How the jaguar had been able to sleep through their previous gun shots was beyond Eames, but it provided further evidence against militarization. Suddenly Eames smiled and dreamed up a blow gun and several darts. “You know how to use that?” Arthur's expression was skeptical.

“Of course. It’s a dream.”

Eames loaded the dart, careful to avoid the tip; they were dreamed up to be covered in dart frog poison. (He’d seen it in a documentary once.) Eames aimed and got a dart into the beasts’ flank. It was awake immediately, on it’s feet with a snarl. Eames leaned out and shot it once more while it’s back was turned and then retreated further into the alcove. They could hear jaguar snarling and pacing. Then it’s pacing became staggered and then there was the sound of something heavy falling onto the ground.

They peered out of the alcove and when the jaguar didn’t move they darted off down the corridor.

“That was anti-climactic,” Arthur muttered.

“Did you want something _more_ exciting, Arthur?”

 

Several more spider attacks and they finally reached the main chamber at the heart of the maze Spread across the wall in brilliant hues was a massive fresco that had certainly not appeared in any of the magazine clippings. In the center was a figure with yellow skin and to her right and left were two attendants. Ahuatzin’s notes were scrawled over the wall in her round bubbly penmanshin. Something Eames had not expected, but was certainly a boon.  
  
Eames rubbed his hands together. “Right, watch the door will you darling?” he said before focusing all of his attention on the fresco, noting the creatures around the figure the doctor labeled as " _Gran Diosa de Teotihuancan"_. The arrows pointing to the Goddess’s nose-plate was labeled “ _mandíbulas_ ”. An arrow pointed above the Spider Woman’s head-piece indicating that the “ _árbol del mundo”_ was missing. Smaller cramped writing outlining particular myths and deities that aspects of the fresco alluded to. It went on and on. Eames almost felt a little bad that they were stealing something Ahuatzin had poured her heart into.  Eames had been so engrossed in applying Ahuatzin’s notes to memory that he’d all but forgotten about Arthur who had been watching his six in silence. That was until…

“Shit.” A gunshot, something wet and heavy falling to the ground and then the clatter of metal on the stone floor.

Eames swung around to see Arthur clutching his arm to his chest. A massive spider with its head blown open lay at his feet. “Oh dear. Did it…?.”

“Bite.” Arthur was already looking pale. Eames steadied him on his feet. “Go.” He waved his arm towards the fresco and then swayed alarmingly, “Finish. We don’t have…time.” Arthur shook his head as if dislodging cobwebs. “Fuck. It really got me. Could feel the…”

“Alright love.” Eames took Arthur by the shoulders and guided him to sit on the ground by the fresco. Arthur was beginning to look ashen and his face was twisted in pain. “Do you want me to—?”

Arthur shook his head vehemently, “Finish the job. I don’t want to come back down here. Fucking—“ Arthur panted and rested his head against the wall. Eames felt terrible leaving him there to suffer, but he turned to the wall and memorized Ahuatzin’s notes as quickly as possible.  Arthur’s breaths came out in wheezes, then moans before he stopped making a sound all together.

Immediately the dream began to shake. Eames kept his focus trained on the notes. There were so many he probably wouldn’t get them all. This was Ahuatzin’s life and he had just over twenty minutes to get it all— The dream was collapsing now a crack ran up the center of the fresco and the pyramid split in two and crumbled.

Being crushed to death was incredibly unpleasant.

 

When Eames woke up he took one deep breath of air. Relishing the feeling of his very whole ribs expanding easily and unflattened lungs taking in air rather than choking on dust. He flexed his hands and ankles.

Ariadne was peering at him concerned. “You alright? Arthur woke up and darted off to the bathroom looking really sick. Did something go wrong?”

“Well, I got the information if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Had a bit of trouble with the projections, love”

Ariadne looked alarmed, “You said there’d—“

“I know what I said.” Eames snapped. He had felt his skull fracture in the end. He closed his eyes and willed those thoughts away. When he opened them again Ariadne was still looking at him with concern, not the least bit deterred by Eames’ outburst. “I told you it didn’t always work didn’t I?”

“I suppose." she reached out to touch him and he shied away. She frowned, "Are you alright though?”

Eames waved her away, “I’ll be right as rain in a bit.”

Arthur emerged from the bathroom looking better than he had towards the end of the dream, “Got what we needed?”

“Of course.” Eames replied. Arthur nodded and went to check on Ahuatzin and unplug her from the PASIV. The three of them cleaned all evidence of their visit in silence and left the apartment one at a time.


	4. Chapter 4

Eames began sketching out the fresco with Ahuatzin's notes as soon as they returned to the hotel. He knew he didn’t get everything so he recorded what he _did_ know with as much detail as possible. His desk lamp was the only light in the suite when Ariadne finally approached him.

"I've packed away my stuff. We can go over all this tomorrow, in the afternoon."  
  
"Yep.” Eames said while adding the sulphurous yellow of the Goddess's skin to the page.

It took him several more hours before he had everything drawn, coloured and written out. When Eames finally sat up and stretched his back out noisily he realized that Arthur was still in the common area working away at his laptop. Eames stood and went to stand behind him. Well, Eames had _thought_ he was working. Arthur was in fact on Youtube. He ignored Eames’ approach and clicked on a video. Up popped the image of a spider, a tarantula according to the title.

Eames recoiled, “Ugh, Arthur. Really?” He couldn’t imagine why Arthur would…after the way he’d died in the dream.

“I really don’t want to develop arachnophobia Eames. It’s inconvenient in our line of work.”

“Have you been looking at spider videos this whole time? Because that’s a _bit_ of overkill, love.”

“I’ve been watching comedy videos between spiders." Arthur took a sip of his beer, "Positive conditioning.” Eames shook his head with a chuckle. “Beer’s in the fridge," Arthur said, “I’m watching Robin Williams next.”

 

The debrief was brief. Eames gave them the Cole’s Notes version of Ahuatzin’s work. Ariadne was pleased with the findings and after emailing the client she let Eames and Arthur know that their payment would be forwarded by the end of the week. As for now, her flight back to Paris was that evening and she’d be taking Eames’ annotations with her  
  
With the pressure of the job off their shoulders Arthur and Eames spent the remaining day lounging in the suite, they had the place booked until the weekend. Mostly, they watched videos on Arthur's laptop and drank. It was nicer than when Ariadne had been gone for her research. Eames had said as much and Arthur replied with a shrug, "I like to stay focused on the job."  
  
Eames hummed in response, then said, "I'm sorry for questioning you in the dream. It was unprofessional."  
  
Arthur shrugged again, "It's fine."  
  
"No, it really wasn't. That inception job was a fluke. I've never heard about you...well about you ever fucking up really. I imagine trying to organize everything and keep Cobb off the deep-end probably made your job more difficult than it needed to be.” Eames gazed at Arthur’s profile waiting for some response. “You do good work,” he added.  
  
"Thank you," Arthur leaned forward and clacked away at the computer.  
  
"Besides, it wouldn't have been nearly as problematic if Cobb hadn't drugged us.”  
  
Arthur's mouth curved up at the corner, "You know _Yusuf_ drugged us right?"  
  
Eames waved a hand, "Literally, yes. But it was Cobb’s job and he didn't tell us. Do you, even in your omnipotence, know everything in the Somnacin blend you buy from your chemist."  
  
"No," Arthur admitted, his gaze still glued to the screen. He grinned suddenly, “Have you seen this video?"

  
It was later during the hours of brain-rotting Youtube videos with cats being strange and slapstick-style stupidity that Arthur began to lean into Eames a little too heavily. Touched his arm a little too often.

Eames' usual philosophy was that if he was going to sleep with someone who had a dick he was going to get fucked, he was selfish like that. As it was, he had pegged Arthur for a total bottom. So when Arthur eventually placed a gentle hand on his chest, gave him a questioning look, Eames thought that perhaps they could wank each other off, or something. He wasn’t sure if he was in the mood for giving fellatio. Those thoughts were scattered when Arthur leaned in and ravage Eames’ mouth.  
  
That gentle hand clawed at Eames chest, finger-tips scraping through the fabric of his shirt. When they finally pulled away from one another Eames blinked for a moment to regain his senses. Arthur' lips were red and wet. Eames’ lips must look the same because Arthur traced his thumb over Eames’ mouth.

He smirked, “Bed?”

“Yes please.” Eames croaked.

 

Clothes were annoying, but eventually they were both naked and tangled on on Arthur’s bed, thighs twined as they kissed and kissed. Arthur wormed a hand between their hips to squeeze their cocks together. It was a bit dry, but Eames’ foreskin was rolling around the crown of his prick perfectly so he found he didn’t mind.

“Take over.” Arthur murmured before releasing their erections and trailing his hand up Eames’ torso. Eames squeezed hard at first making Arthur hiss and he relaxed his grip which an apologetic murmur. Meanwhile Arthur’s callused hands were exploring Eames back and shoulders, groaning whenever the muscles flexed. 

Arthur’s expression, when they broke apart to breathe, was somewhere between dazed and jubilant, dimples creasing his cheeks. “Top or bottom?" he panted as he scrabbled towards the bedside table.   
  
"Bottom. If you don't mind.”  
  
"Kay." Arthur slapped a strip of condoms on the dresser and lay on his side with a bottle of slick. He gestured for Eames to scoot closer and squirted lube onto his fingers. He was endearingly sloppy in his eagerness. Arthur must have seen something in Eames’ expression because he rolled his eyes before his slippery fingers trailed over the cleft of Eames' arse. 

Eames felt himself twitch with anticipation, but Arthur spent far more time teasing the skin and muscles of his entrance than was strictly necessary before he finally pressed a slim finger into Eames' hole.  Arthur was…thorough. He twisted that single finger around and rubbed smoothly in all directions. He was silent as he searched and tested, as though listening to Eames’ gasps and groans was of utmost importance. 

It was a long time before he added another finger, crooked and twisted and spread them against Eames' insides. His knuckles rubbed against the sensitized skin of his hole. Eames had given up on kissing and let himself nibble and suck mindlessly on the salty skin Arthur’s neck. His moans became more plaintive and he sank his teeth in the flesh of Arthur’s shoulder when he felt the bastard smiling against his temple. Arthur’s chuckle reverberated through Eames cheek and he would have been annoyed if Arthur hadn’t added a third finger anyway.

 

Eames wasn’t as flexible as he’d been in his younger days so when Arthur had finally settled between his legs, they ended up splayed awkwardly. Arthur frowned before reaching over Eames to grab a pillow that he shoved under his hips. “Thanks, love.” Arthur nodded but his gaze was fixed on the apex of his thighs, watching his thumb slide in circles around Eames’ entrance, dip in slightly where he was slick and loose and so fucking eager.

Eames shuddered when Arthur tugged at his asshole, “Darling, I’m sure it’s fascinating, but if you’d be so kind.”

He chuckled but shuffled forward and Eames felt the tip of the condom brush him, and then the hardness of Arthur rubbing back and forth against him. “Arthur,” Eames whined, making the man grin unabashed before he finally, finally, pressed in.

The muscles of Arthur’s abdominals and arms flexed as he sank steadily into Eames. Eames felt a momentary pang of jealousy over how fit Arthur was. It was good to be stretched full, but it was Arthur’s satisfied groan, his blissful expression when he was fully seated that dragged Eames back to the present. He trailed his fingers along the smoothness of Arthur’s back for a few moments while he seemed to gather his wits. Arthur hips gave a few twitches before his eyes fluttered open. His gaze raked over Eames’ body, “God you’re hot.” He had gotten his hips under control and when he thrust again it was smooth and perfect and Eames was too caught up in the feeling to be flattered. 

Arthur dragged Eames’ hips so he rested on his his thighs. The new position limited Arthur’s range of motion and his depth substantially, but when he rocked his hips, the angle made Eames cry out. Of course Arthur would be efficient about fucking, would be pin-point accurate about where he pointed his dick. Eames found he was hardly in a position to be grudging when Arthur’s cock-head rolled over his prostate with each upward push. Beads of sweat gathered at Arthur’s temples and above his upper lip but the way his body moved was leisurely, his breath was still even.

One of Arthur’s hands left Eames’ hips and came to rest low on Eames’ belly pressing against the thatch of pubic hair. Arthur rubbed there at first, a nearly soothing gesture, calluses catching in the hair. Then he pressed with the heel of his hand and Eames moaned at the feeling of having his prostate stimulated from outside as well.

If Arthur’s intention was to render Eames incoherent, he was succeeding. Eames looked up at him about to say as much but Arthur’s expression was one of absolute, nearly grim, concentration. “Having fun, love?” Eames gasped. Arthur’s eyes snapped to his, as if he’d been caught doing something embarrassing. “Only you look as though I’m a particularly troubling equation. Or paradox. Or—oh!”  Arthur ground his hips up, “Cheeky— whatever you look at on your laptop all day.”

“How are you still talking?” Arthur shook his head. He had a lovely smile, and lovely hair that stuck up every where. 

Eames knew his own smile was probably dopey, but he didn’t care. Arthur deserved to see Eames look a bit ridiculous. “I knew that was your plan.”

“What?” Arthur began to thrust machine-gun rapid, “render you speechless.”

“Uh-huh.” Fuck words. Arthur wanted him speechless, he could have his speechless so long as he kept doing that.   

“Can you come from this?”

“No.” Eames slurred out.

“Why don’t you play with yourself then?” Arthur had slowed down as though talking and fucking like a champ at the same time was slightly beyond him.

Eames arched, “I’d like to drag this out at long as possible, if it’s all the same to you.”

Arthur snorted, “Lazy-ass.”

“Quite right.”

Arthur began to fold himself down, but halted partway, obviously mindful of Eames’ need for space. “S’alright,” Arthur said quietly into Eames’ neck, “you feel good. I don’t mind.” In this position, Arthur's hairless abdomen was a hot cradle against Eames’ balls.

Everything was still controlled, still perfect and Arthur. Eames found himself toying with his own nipples, palming his chest. His prick jostled around against his belly with every jostle of Arthur’s thrusts.

Eventually, Arthur gasped, “Oh fuck” and then began to hammer his hips against Eames’ arse. Eames slitted his eyes open, wanting to see Arthur finally come undone. Arthur went tense as he hunched his shoulders thrust erratically a few more times his red face twisted into a grimace as he grunted before going lax. 

He lay there panting for some time before Eames wormed a hand between their bodies to finish himself off. “No. Wait. Let me. I can—“ Arthur was still flushed.

Eames waved magnanimously towards his erection “Alright.”

Arthur pulled back, still panting and fondled Eames for a moment, as though to re-acquaint himself. When Arthur did tighten his grip and stroke Eames off in earnest it didn't take long for him to reach his climax. Eames gazed down at his cock wanting to memorize the sight of Arthur’s pale fingers wrapped around him. Despite how badly he just wanted to close his eyes and relish the release, it was worth it to watch the dark red crown of his prick blurt all over Arthur’s knuckles.  
  
After a few more dopey pants at one another, Arthur pulled out carefully and pattered off to the bathroom. Eames ran a finger through the jizz on his belly, luxuriating in the feel of it. He heard the tap shut off and Arthur returned with damp wash cloth that he handed to Eames before settling onto the bed next to him rubbing his ankle as he cleaned himself. Once Eames had cleaned up as much as he could be bothered, he burrowed under the blankets and intended to sleep forever, not caring whose bed he was in. Arthur obviously didn’t mind as he slotted himself behind Eames once the lights were off. 

“Good?” Arthur’s voice was quiet against Eames’ neck.

“Delightful.” Eames replied drowsily. “We must do it again sometime.” He reached back and clumsily patted Arthur’s arse. “For now, sleep time.” Arthur’s silent laughter ghosted across Eames’ shoulders. 

 

The next morning was…surprisingly relaxed. Eames wasn’t sure what he had expected, but easy conversation over coffee was not it. As they were packing up and destroying the rest of the evidence, Arthur cleared his throat, “It may seem that Miss Croft may have won this round.”

“I beg your pardon?” Eames arched an eyebrow as he continued loading the rubbish.

“Well, in the end Jones needed Croft’s guns since you need to get pretty close to your enemy to use a cutlass. And it’s messier.”

Eames would have argued, but he felt so delightfully sore. And… Arthur had died painfully so the job could get finished. Fuck it. “I will concede your point. Though I must suggest a rematch.” They hadn’t had enough time for another romp that morning, Eames’ flight was only a few hours away. He didn’t know when Arthur was skipping town.

Arthur flashed Eames a grin, dimples and all, “Well, I’ve got a job coming up in about a month that needs a forger if you’re interested.”

 


End file.
